Children of Sateda
by fmapreshwab
Summary: When Sateda was overrun, 300 managed to survive.  Could there have been at least one more?


Set shortly after the season three episode 'Sateda'. Also, I spell phonetically with accents, so bear with me on the whole Carson thing.

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Ronon Dex woke with a start. He sat up in his bed and looked around, only to be confronted by the stark whiteness of a hospital wing. 'No,' a small part of him said. 'The infirmary.' He hadn't been in a hospital since that last day on Sateda… He shook his head slightly, clearing away the cobwebs of the past. Going back had dredged up memories he had fought long and hard to put to rest, and he resented having to face them again. It was like a fresh wound all over again, knowing that his family and friends, almost everyone he had ever known, were dead. Then he considered his surroundings; the infirmary directly, but all the things that infirmary implied. He thought about his new home, his new family, and felt the ghosts of his past slowly ebb away into the recesses of his mind.

Footsteps up the corridor alerted him to the doctor's presence before he opened the sheet that passed for a wall here. Beckett's face lit slightly at the sight of Ronon, not only awake, but sitting up and looking around. "Mornin' lad. You seem to be doin' a great sight better than yesterday. Awake and evr'thin. Never cease to amaze me, that immune system of yours. What you went through would've had anyone else in Atlantis out of commission for at least a week." Ronon merely grunted in acknowledgement. Beckett grinned. "See you haven't lost that eloquence of yours, either." He glanced down at his watch. He'd been fidgeting and the activity outside the sheet seemed more frenzied than usual.

"Something happening, Beckett?"

"Wha?" he asked, startled out of whatever reverie he had fallen into. "Oh, yes, your team had a mission and they're due back soon."

"So? They go off-world all the time."

"SO," he emphasized, "Without you to, ah…help out, they'll come back with Rodneh lookin' like Swiss cheese and Sheppard none bettah. Nevah hurts to be prepared, lad."

"If you say so." Ronon rolled over and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, a bloody mass of Rodney McKay was staring at him. He blinked, not quite believing it at first, but the mass refused to be resolved into any shape other than the scientist. "McKay?" he asked groggily.

"What?" he asked, only a vaguely agitated shadow of his abrasive self.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing, the meeting went swimmingly. In fact, the natives were so happy to be dealing with us, they erected golden statues of our team and lifted us up on their shoulders for a few laps of their settlement. Then they offered Sheppard and me the pick of any of the village's most beautiful women, and the feast, oh the feast.…" He trailed off, at a loss for further sarcasm, and closed his eyes.

"McKay. McKay!" he shouted, getting the scientist's attention. "What happened?" he asked again, speaking slowly and clearly to cut through the grog doubtless clouding the man's mind.

"It started out fine. The girl, Teyla's friend—." He trailed off. "I can't think of her name. Turns out she's just a kid, no older than 20. Anyway, she and Teyla did the whole 'catching up thing' at the city's inn, and the four of us had some drinks. Not entirely alcoholic, mind you. I think they may have been some kind of local fruit juice and—something else. She, the girl, Teyla's friend, you remember? She offered to take us to her leader." McKay laughed, doubtlessly at another of the many jokes Ronon never understood. "We went on in to his office. He was really old, their governor. We were talking about trading, when some men kicked in the door. They started shooting, and we ran. The old man was hit pretty badly; we couldn't help him. The four of us ran to the gate and—"

"Four of you?" Ronon cut him off.

"Well we couldn't very well leave the poor girl, now could we?" he asked, indignant. "We ran for the gate, had it dialed and everything. I was just about to go through, when there was this big explosion, and then I was here. You were asleep, and they were bringing the girl in on a stretcher. She looked terrible. I think she was the closest to the blast, poor kid. Carson took her on to surgery, and then you woke up and you started…well, doing whatever it is you're doing right now, lying there and asking me questions." He waved off in Ronon's direction and put his head down on the bed.

"What did you say the girl's name was?"

"I didn't, couldn't think of it." He paused for a moment. "It was weird."

"You think all alien names are weird."

"No, a different kind of weird. It reminded me of something. One of the Greek goddesses, I think. It wasn't Hera, or Athena." He was quiet a long time, thinking. It usually didn't take him this long to think, but he'd been through a lot so Ronon let it go. "Artemis. It sounded like—Artem. The girl's name was Artem."

Ronon sat up on his medbed, a little more interested. "Is she alright?"

"I don't know, she's still in surgery I think."

"Where's Beckett?"

"Are you even listening to me anymore?" He turned over and looked up at Ronon. "Sur-ger-y!" Ronon swung his legs over the side of the bed he occupied, exposing the brutal cut down his leg the doctor had so carefully stitched. "What- Where are you going? Get back here, I don't think you're supposed to be getting up—"

The scientist's grating voice faded as Ronon left what he assumed was the cordoned off recovery ward. He found surgery easily enough; it was the set of double doors the stretcher was coming out of. He saw the her, lying motionless on the slab, and he could only hope she was unconscious.

Even at rest, he could tell she was strong, thick, cord-like muscles dominating what he could see of her arms. She obviously spent much of her time in the sun, as she was nearly as dark as Ronon himself. She had thick, red-brown hair that, when she stood, probably fell nearly to her waist. He looked up to see Beckett watching him watch her. "Will she be alright?" he asked simply.

"Ay, lad. A few days and she'll be good as— well I wouldn't say new, exacly. She had a lo' of old wounds I coun't do anythin about. She's obviously been through a lo' in her life. Can ye believe it? And so young, th' poor dear."

"Where are you taking her now?"

"Recovery, with you an' Rodneh. Think ye can be nice to th' unconsious lass?" Ronon didn't answer, his gaze still fixed on the sleeping girl. "D'ye know, ye're really no' supposed to be out or about , lad. Go on, back to bed with ye." He made shooing motions over his head and hearded the large man back to his bed.

When he got back, Rodney was asleep. Two of Beckett's techs put the girl on the bed on the other side of Ronon, and the lights were dimmed. It was late, and Ronon was getting tired, but he stayed awake to ensure she was alright. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, and he wasn't even surprised when he heard a low hum coming from deep in him. He recognized it from his childhood, a lullaby from Sateda. There were words, but he didn't know them, so he was content to hum over the girl.

A few minutes later, the ward was silent, it's occupants asleep, and the lights disappeared entirely from the infirmary.


End file.
